


fork a hoss

by orphan_account



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Riding, a literal pile of sin, weirdest form of dirty talk this side of the mississippi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4728722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>to fork a hoss=to ride a horse.</p><p>jed and octy and silly, smiling sex (and so, so many riding puns).</p>
            </blockquote>





	fork a hoss

**Author's Note:**

> based on a headcanon/scenario i shared with octodaddy on tumblr. i couldn't sleep one night so i looked up cowboy lingo, and holy shit, i found a gold mine, and i decided to write it as a whole fic too? if this weirds you out, then good. here's a lil glossary for some context (most of the horse stuff was at the beginning of the alphabet, lol)  
>   
> glossary~  
> barkin’ irons- pistols  
> boil over- a horse that starts bucking  
> breachy- a term applied to unruly oxen (or in this case a horse… or a miniature… person)  
> bronc buster- a cowboy who could tame wild horses  
> caveson- a muzzle for a horse :(  
> chickabiddy- a term of endearment for children  
> crocky- smutty (so crockier=smuttier)  
> currying out the kinks- breaking a horse  
> grab the apple- take hold of the saddle horn to not fall off  
> grassed- to be thrown from a horse  
> hull- saddle

There it is again: that sideways smile that's more teeth than dimples, full of bravado and brilliance, enough to crinkle its owner's nose. If Octavius were being honest, he would think it haughty, and too fake to be an indicator of real joy. But then again, it's a pretty on-par manifestation of all that is the great Jedediah Smith. It's brash, eager, and eye-catching, and Octavius will curse every god in existence if it isn't the least bit sincere.

 

It's also the exact smile Jedediah's using right now as he's perched on Octavius' lap, with an ass full of dick and a forehead slick with sweat. A smile plastered so perfectly it could very well have been left over from his inanimate state. And now it mocks Octavius, as it is a tacit proclamation that Jedediah is absolutely _treasuring_ his view of his lover disheveled and reposed on rumpled, ivory sheets. He rakes a hand through damp, now tousled hair, while his other hand dangles to side, clasped with Octavius' own.

 

"Whoo-boy," Jedediah nearly laughs. "Hasn't been this hard for me to saddle up since I were a chickabiddy." Octavius is about to mindlessly hum at his lover's equally mindless illation. That is, until he registers the words, and can't even consider appreciating Jed's libidinous lip, quirked up and teasing, because _what the devil did he just say._

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"That's supposed to be a compliment, ya sap-head." He lets out a long, wavering sigh that visibly pulls at his abdominals, as if his body is just now realizing he's fully seated on Octavius, who's trying his hardest to focus on the task at hand, rather than Jedediah's strange, foreign lingo. Letting his eyes fall closed, Jedediah broadens his grin even more. "Sure is one helluva hull," he sighs.

 

Okay, Octavius thinks that was a bit better, because that one at least made a little sense, and from what he can tell, Jedediah is starting to feel some sort of articulate pleasure, and that's all that matters. He allows himself a smile too, which even progresses into a breathy laugh emanating from his diaphragm-all air and elation. He'll humour Jedediah just this once.

 

"Is this your way of telling me that you are roused by _horse euphemisms_ , love?" Jedediah's face goes from being mildly pleased to having a chaotic tweak to his mouth, eyes hyper-focused on Octavius' now-bitten lower lip. When he speaks, it's with determined ludicrousy.

 

"Ain't nothin' crockier than curryin' out the kinks!"

 

...Whatever the hell _that_ meant. But Octavius can't dwell on it, because the second he says it, Jedediah starts moving (gods, _finally_ ) in the laziest, most languid motion upwards, only to drop like an anchor back onto Octavius' lap. It has Jedediah keening, giving a high-pitched hum from the back of his throat, and Octavius savours the sound with what little nerves he has left that _aren't_ busy relishing the feeling of being sheathed into Jedediah again. It's enough to make his toes curl.

 

Jedediah repeats the motion, but on his descent, lets out a lung-shaking exhale,  lurching forward and smacking his hands on Octavius' waist. The sound only has seconds to resonate, and then Jed's grasping at the skin and flesh and muscle for dear life. He takes a moment to recollect himself, panting becoming less erratic as Octavius watches with awestruck eyes, then scoffs as he smiles."Gonna be grassed  'nless I grab the apple, Tavy."

 

The worst part is that once again, he beams that smile that Octavius both loathes and loves so very much. Octavius wants to shut it off as soon as he sees it, because he knows that staring at it will make this all end way too soon. So he vows to do everything in his power to last longer than that gods-forsaken smile will allow... Which proves to be easier said than done. How can Octavius possibly hold onto any acumen at all when he can feel Jedediah push himself up through the hands grasping his sides, and the ass surrounding his cock. Amid giving Octavius the most alluring, cheshire-cat grin.

 

He starts to slide up and down, knees locked in place and hips creating electric jolts of friction for him and Octavius. To keep things interesting, Jedediah changes the extent of how far off Octavius’ dick he’ll go with each elevation. The worst is when he’s virtually all the way out, lifted high enough so that just the head remains inside of him, then makes a show of sinking back all the way, his ever-quickening pace not stuttering for an instant.

 

Octavius doesn’t wonder if there is a heaven, doesn’t wonder if there is a hell, but wonders if this moment here is the blend of the two: a wonderful session of lovemaking, accompanied by irritating smiles and even worse comments.  However, Jedediah seems satisfied, as is prevalent from his face, and the way his cock leaks precum, hard and bouncing right along with him. Sending Octavius on an inescapable high, Jedediah cherishes every indication of his partner’s pleasure from his arduous labour. “Breachy lil' bugger, ain't ya?" he questions, voice laced with hyperactive lust and a touch of hysteria.

 

"That sentence has got to big the biggest turn off in the hih-ih-story of the spoken-ngh... word." The last syllable sounds more like a period than a word, trying with all its might to cease Octavius' stream of interrupting sighs and gasps of ecstasy. All thanks to Jedediah's _incessant bouncing_. The sick bastard is probably using his upturned mouth to outright devour the sounds that Octavius really shouldn't be making under any circumstance.

 

It's when Jedediah leers at him and laughs through his nose that Octavius smiles back, if only out of nervousness. Jedediah eats that up along with the noises. "We gonna need a caveson for that chomper?"

 

This has Octavius looking to the heavens, with a defeated sigh of "I stand corrected" and releases a piteous chuckle for himself. Never in all of his immortal years would he have imagined that his demise would be in the twisted hands of Jedediah, and the strange language contrived by cowpoke. Never would Octavius have imagined a certain one of those cowpoke to be riding the mercy out of him this very moment. Leave it to a cowpoke, though, to choose his own interpretation of the word “riding.”

 

"What? This ain't _sensual_ 'nuff for you, Octavius? Ha!” He doesn’t even bat an eye, just makes his taunts as he continuously penetrates himself. Octavius is livid. “You'll be shootin' faster'n a pair of barkin' irons."

 

At least when he isn’t spewing nonsense, Jedediah is making the most delicious groans that leave Octavius seizing his lover’s thighs just to ground himself. This also aids in making Jedediah’s movements more fluid, leaving a steady stream of fired up nerves in his wake. Impulsive, the two get lost in sensory overloads, their need to feel each other’s everything crescendoing into blatant groping and grinding. Jedediah opts to voice his contentment, amidst the cascade of carnal noises he voluntarily (and involuntarily) makes . "Hah-ah-hnng... N-never reckoned I'd grow up'n be a bronc buster."

 

Only after a great deal of inner turmoil, Octavius forces himself to become desensitized to the commentary, maybe even get caught up in his lover’s antics. It at least lets him start to get close, which really should be impossible with all of the wonderfully ridiculous things Jedediah’s said. Just like wonderful Jedediah, who now wants to draw attention to how painfully, blissfully hard both he and Octavius are. He sucks in a rapturous breath, staccatoed from his own fervent movements, and _howls_.

 

"Looks like this hay baler's 'bout to be a boil over!"

 

Oh. Oh that is _it_ , that is the last straw. This has gone _far enough_ , for of all the horrendous horse puns slung at Octavius tonight... _hay baler_? Really? As if the valiant leader of Rome’s legion would be _remotely_ comparable to a measly labour horse. If Jedediah thinks the comment will so easily be brushed aside, then he will be (quite literally) sorely mistaken.

 

In a refined surge of rage (in the most immature of manners), Octavius tightens his grip on Jedediah's thighs, holding him in place. Jedediah is only still long enough for him to hear Octavius grunt "For the love of Venus, Jedediah, shut _up_ " before tanned, toned hips snap upward, deep into him. The sudden thrust certainly does its job of shutting Jedediah up; every muscle in him tightens and the strangled moan he manages to make is the only thing that lets Octavius know that _he can't just stop there, dear god, don't ever stop._

 

This starts a whole new rhythm, one of mirrors, as Jedediah’s hips reel down to meet every one of Octavius’ upward pitches, and the two are perfectly matched, grin for grin. They’ve found a common ground and are basking in its benefits, kneading each other’s skin in an intimate massage of extolment. Speed progressing with each second passed, both men toss their heads back with guttural moans, Jedediah’s hinted with desperation. His patience is just as short as his temper.

 

He whines. "Please, Oc-Octavius. Lemme see you come apart."

 

Probably the first intelligible phrase from Jedediah’s mouth this whole evening, and Octavius is more than willing to oblige. Knowing that getting Jedediah off is what really gets his own blood pumping, Octavius unlatches one of his hands from a toned thigh to wrap around Jedediahs untended dick. A flat out _wail_ is given to him in response, and that does it for Octavius. He receives his orgasm with a lifted spirit and a pumping hand, which allows Jedediah to follow suit just moments later; strings of cum decorating the skin around and near his cock. Octavius is only coherent enough to release his hold before taking a minute to regain awareness in any part of his body that isn’t touching Jedediah, who looks as though he finally managed to blow up the diorama wall. Like he just completed the impossible task of getting Octavius to come from listening to an onslaught of horse allusions, which… he _did_.

 

It has Octavius laughing, quiet and hearty and full of disbelief. Jedediah seems to like it, and he chuckles right back at Octavius and leans down to place a quick peck on tired, smiling lips, as if to take a snapshot of them with his own. It's marvelous.

 

Clean up and “dismount”  happen in understandable silence, as both men need time to recollect themselves and their breaths. Before they know it, however, each are splayed atop the sheets in a bare-minimum effort to cool down; heads tucked next to each other and hands lazily ghosting over arms and faces. Octavius stares at eyes, of a man who just minutes ago would not cease his verbal torture for the life of him. Snickering from his nose, Octavius shakes his head, knowing that speaking his thoughts will earn him not only the smile-of-the-ages, but probably also more horse puns. He takes the risk; a hazy glaze of wonder to his voice.

 

“For decades I’ve known how mouthy you are, but I would have never thought you to be such a jester.”

 

“Ah ah ah,” Jedediah warns, “That there’s most definitely a lie. If I recall correctly, you thought we trail-blazers were ‘buffoons’.” His tone is accusatory, but the smile that follows gives him away. Octavius echoes it.

 

“It seems that I used to be a bit of an ass.”

 

“Well then that makes two of us, partner.”

 

The revelation has Octavius beaming, and he can’t take it anymore. He stitches together the smiles that have graced this room all evening -the giddy ones, the nervous, the manic, the tired- with a patient, long-awaited kiss, taking his time to let it resonate with Jedediah. How preposterously he’d acted tonight, how preposterous Octavius had been for ending up enjoying it, and how never in a million years will he allow horse puns to be a part of his sex life ever again. Ever.

  


**Author's Note:**

> come apart- (the act of, i’m presuming,) a horse bucking  
> octy, y do u put up w/ him


End file.
